Nelson and McClellan were deliberate bidders for
popularity. It may be that in the two former the very strength of
their patriotism was at fault. To them the State was everything, the
individual nothing. To fight for their country was merely a question
of duty, into which the idea of glory or recompense hardly entered,
and, indifferent themselves either to praise or blame, they
considered that the victory of the national arms was a sufficient
reward for the soldier's toils. Both were generous and open-handed,
exerting themselves incessantly to provide for the comfort and
well-being of their troops. Neither was insensible to suffering, and
both were just as capable of self-sacrifice as either Nelson or
McClellan. But the standpoint from which they looked at war was too
exalted. Nelson and McClellan, on the other hand, recognised that
they commanded men, not stoics. Sharing with Napoleon the rare
quality of captivating others, a quality which comes by nature or
comes not at all, they made allowance for human nature, and
identified themselves with those beneath them in the closest
camaraderie. And herein, to a great extent, lay the secret of the
enthusiastic devotion which they inspired.

If the pitiless dissectors of character are right we ought to see in
Napoleon the most selfish of tyrants, the coldest end most crafty of
charlatans. It is difficult, however, to believe that the hearts of a
generation of hardy warriors were conquered merely by ringing phrases
and skilful flattery. It should be remembered that from a mercenary
force, degraded and despised, he transformed the Grand Army into the
terror of Europe and the pride of France. During the years of his
glory, when the legions controlled the destinies of their country,
none was more honoured than the soldier. His interests were always
the first to be considered. The highest ranks in the peerage, the
highest offices of State, were held by men who had carried the
knapsack, and when thrones were going begging their claims were
preferred before all others. The Emperor, with all his greatness, was
always "the Little Corporal" to his grenadiers. His career was their
own. As they shared his glory, so they shared his reward. Every
upward step he made towards supreme power he took them with him, and
their relations were always of the most cordial and familiar
character. He was never happier than when, on the eve of some great
battle, he made his bivouac within a square of t